


DnD Drabbles

by gaudyAficionado



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Demons, Dragonborn (D&D), Fluff, Hate Speech, Other, Tieflings, high elf, high elf/tiefling, related to tieflings, yin/feryn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaudyAficionado/pseuds/gaudyAficionado
Summary: Drabbles written about Dungeons and Dragons. I mean... That's kind of what the name implies isn't it? These will be whenever I'm feeling inspired. So few and far between?





	1. Faking It

They began setting up in the shadier side of the already shady market. They were wearing a long, dark cloak, and they weren’t the only one. The hood covered most of their features, and they felt it brush against their long tail. It was tucked into the back of their pants to hide it from view. They also had to hide their half-foot long horns, which, believe it or not, was hard to do. It had took all of their concentration, but they eventually figured out how to hide them from view using illusion magic. They had no way to hide their grey skin or their bright red eyes at the current moment, but in a rush, they blended into the crowd a bit easier.

They heard a shuffle behind them before a deep voice sounded. “Hey,” it boomed. “This’s my turf.”

They took a deep breath and carefully turned around. The voice belonged to a large, bulky man with a very strong build. He had many scars indicative of many fights he had most likely won. Their fingers danced on their hidden dagger. They didn’t want to have to defend themself, but they would if they had to.

“I’m sorry,” They said, a thick accent pervading their speech. “I did not realize this was yours. I did not see your name anywhere. Nonetheless, let me move my things for you.”

They began picking up their things, keeping an eye on the now fuming man. He towered over them by about a head’s height difference and he seemed to be swelling further with rage.

“Excuse me?” He growled.

“You’re excused,” They said, voice laced with sarcasm. They nearly dropped their things when harsh contact met their face. They froze and put a hand where they had just been slapped.

“I ain’t taking any shit from a thiefling like you. Run along before I report you to the authorities.”

They were used to derogatory speech at that point, they had to be, but the slap coupled with the usual names broke them. They weren’t standing for this shit any longer. They grabbed the handle of their blade to pull it on the man in front of them. Before it was unsheathed, they snapped to their senses. If they retaliated physically, it would be their fault, and they would be captured and sold into the slave trade. They slowly and reluctantly let go of the blade and took a long breath.

“Yes, by all means,” They said, “report me for standing in  _ your spot _ in the  _ Black Market _ . I’m sure that will go over fantastically.”

They saw the blow coming this time and dodged what appeared to be a mean right hook. It was obvious that this was only going to further escalate if they didn’t do something soon. Lucky for them, most bigoted people tended to be very, very gullible.

They looked the man dead in the eye and slowly allowed the illusion hiding their horns to fade. While their tall, twisted horns came into view, they began spouting the most intimidating sounding words they knew in Infernal. When translated, it was pure gibberish, but the man hopefully didn’t know that. Something about a tiefling rapidly growing horns and chanting Infernal at you just didn’t sit right with most people. In fact it unnerved them and instilled fear into them. Good. They deserved it.

“Can’shalon fellaron centari entarion mak,” They chanted, staring unblinking into the man’s dark eyes. “Kaerelle fen ellesch keytelle.”

Even though their speech translated roughly to “cabbage, antonym, pheromones, apple, magic, elements, fire, elder, padlock,” it seemed to work and the man began backing away before cursing at them and sprinting off.

They worked for a few minutes concealing their horns once more. After ensuring they weren’t visible, they went back to work setting up their goods. Sometimes, they hated being born, and they cursed whoever it was in their bloodline that decided it was a good idea to have sex with a  _ literal demon _ . They supposed it was sometimes funny making people squirm, but it was overall a mortal hell. But they always had to look on the  bright side, right? At least they weren’t enslaved. They had heard the horror stories of those who had met that fate and would rather be executed that stuck under someone else’s torturous grasp.


	2. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of a two parter. I felt it could be split and the rest isn't written yet.

The tiefling blinked a bit, awakened as light fell into the barn. They squint at the light and poked their head out from behind several large bales of hay to see who was coming into their temporary haven. They appeared to be some sort of guard unit. Definitely not the city guard, possibly a personal guard? Nonetheless, they should pack their things as quickly and quietly as possible. As they began, they heard the party speak in hushed whispers.

“You sure it’s in here?” One spoke.

“Of course,” Another replied. “Where else would a rat hide?”

It was obvious they weren’t talking about an actual rat. They picked up their pace, wondering what exactly they had done this time. They focused more on being fast over quiet at this point. They were going to get caught regardless of how quiet they were being if they didn’t work faster. They collected their things and climbed over the top of the haystack. There was a guard keeping watch over the only exit. They curse under their breath. They looked around quickly and found only a rock beside them. It would have to do.

They picked up the rock and tossed it to a corner of the barn near where the guard was pacing. They were hoping the noise would distract the guard long enough for them to slip out, and it would’ve worked, too, if it hadn’t have been for...\

“Hey!” A voice behind them yelled. They looked over their shoulder to see a man pointing at them. “I found it!”

They scrambled up the haystack and slid down the other side, almost bowling over the guard at the door. They gave him a hard push to the face and sprinted out of the barn, not waiting around to see if it sent him down.

They heard yelling behind them and soon after heard the high pitch  _ whoosh _ of a crossbow bolt whizzing past their face. They cursed again as they realized they were being fired upon. They began weaving back and forth, dodging quite a few of the coming bolts. They yelped as a sharp pain shot through their left leg. They stumbled and looked down, seeing a bolt sticking through their leg, but they couldn’t stop. They could hear the mob getting closer behind them, and although they were running through the pain, they were still slowed and couldn’t afford to stop until they had lost them.

They sustained another shot to their shoulder, and they held a hand to it as the continued to run. With their wounds, they were going considerably slower, and they could hear the footfalls behind them getting louder and getting closer. One final bolt to their right thigh sent them flying to the ground. They only had a few seconds to get up before they felt the cold sharpness of a bolt held against the back of their neck.

“Don’t get up.” The wielder said.

They felt hands grab at their upper arms and pin their own hands behind them with cold metal. They were hoisted up to a standing position where they regained their pained footing. They finally got a good look at their assailants. By their looks, they were just a band of hired thugs, average, poor. They were most likely only doing it for the money.

“Ah, hello, fellows,” The tiefling said nonchalantly. “To whom do I owe this… pleasure?”

One of the men, seemingly the leader, spoke up. “Lord Erengal.”

The tiefling thought about it for a few moments before shrugging. “Never heard of him.”

“The… nobleman overseeing this town?”

They shook their head. “I don’t pay attention to meaningless rubbish.” They looked him eye to eye. “However, I do have an open door policy, and he could’ve come himself instead of sending you fine gentlemen.”

One of the men holding them still scoffed. “Says the hoofer who ran on sight.” 

They turned their head to the man and gave him a smile that hid a thinly veiled hatred. “Well, I’d imagine you’d do the same if a large, armed group snuck up on you while you were sleeping.” They looked back to the leader.

“Now how much are you getting paid to find me?” They asked. “I can give you each five gold pieces more than what he offered you if you let me go. I’ll even forgive the grievous injuries you’ve caused me!”

They didn’t seem to be having any of it.

“Yeah, right,” The leader scoffed. “Like any of us are dumb enough to trust anything you would have us believe. Not after what you pulled with our employer.”

Oh dear. What HAD they pulled with their employer? They saw so many faces each day. They could’ve met this person and not even remembered them. People didn’t really throw around their names underground.

“I think you might have the wrong tiefling,” They spoke up. “I don’t know who this man is or what I apparently ‘pulled.’ I’m an honest tiefling, believe it or not!”

“I tend towards not believing,” The man spat. “Load it into the cart.”


	3. Nightmares

Feryn was sleeping against a wall in the Runway, hood covering their face. It had been a few months after the ordeal with Mr. Fey, and through the help of their acquaintance, they had been able to regain their freedom. Out of gratitude (and maybe something else?), they had opted to stay with the elf, Yin, and aid her cause. Ekin had stayed, too, but they assumed he had his own reasons. With three people, it was much easier to keep an eye open while the group got some shut-eye.

Feryn was softly awakened by a small squirm in their arms and they cracked a single eye open. It was Yin. She had wiggled her way into their arms while they were asleep and was laying in their embrace. It wasn’t the first time it had happened and they never said anything about it, nor gave any reason to believe they knew about it. However, it had been happening more and more often recently, and it was starting to worry them.

“What’s wrong?” They asked, cracking open the other eye, looking down at the elf.

She seemed surprised and looked up at them. “Oh, it’s nothing,” She said lightly.

“Mhm,” Feryn replied. “And that’s why you’ve been doing this more often recently?” Yin flushed and her look seemed embarrassed. “What’s been going on?”

She looked down and glanced over at Ekin, who was asleep in a pile nearby. “It’s Davaticus.” She said nervously. “He’s been… acting up again.”

Feryn gave a small sigh and pulls her closer to their body. “What’s he saying now?”

“More of the same,” She said sadly. “I just…” She starts to tear up. 

Feryn began to carefully shush her and started to sway a bit, rocking the two of them. “We need to find you someone who can exorcise demons.” They whispered. “Look, Yin. I’ve told you this before, and I’ll tell you again. You aren’t bad. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. If it weren’t for you, Ekin wouldn’t be here. Even if you can’t say that you’re the best person morally, you saved at least two people who didn’t deserve what they got. You do your best and that’s all you can do.” Yin seemed a bit better, but still troubled when they hoisted her completely into their embrace. “How ‘bout you do that weird trance thing you do? You think that’ll help? I can take over watch from here.”

She looked back up at them and gave a little nod before curling closer to their body.

“Good night.” They said quietly. They heard a quiet murmur of “good night” from the elf before they watched her go into her trance. A magical, invisible hand pulled the sides of their cloak over the elf to create a comforting warmth between the two. They gave a small sigh and looked back over their small bit of sewer. 


	4. Thick Scaled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was co-written by my DM and I featuring our favorite two dragonborns. Honestly we think they're both the most adorable creatures ever, so here's this for you.

The shelves were stocked, floors swept, and licorice dish filled; it was finally time to lock up Yew Wand after another slow business day in the great city of Bleak Wind. Smoke slowly rose from Markus’ scaled nostrils out of a light frustration. With only a few pages left in the book he was currently reading, he would be soon left with nothing to busy himself on nights like these. There was suddenly a rap at the door and a voice accompanying it.

“Hello?” It called. “I am sorry for coming so late. Is the shop closed?”

Not a single pedestrian saw fit to visit the prior day, Markus could only wonder why one would go out of their way rather than heading to the Dilly Dally for an evening draft of alcohol.

“Madam, I can spare a moment. Please come in.” Markus, with scaled snout upon the wooden door, replied as he slid his key into the lock and undid the latch to allow in his tardy visitor.

Once unlocked, the handle turned and the door opened to reveal a female bronze dragonborn donned in chainmail accompanied by a smaller figure, a kobold if one were to guess.

“As I said, I am sorry for arriving as late as I have, but I have just arrived in town.” She said apologetically. “I have used more than my fair share of potions on the journey here and was wondering if you knew where I could acquire more.”

Markus did not reply right away. “ _ A dragonborn _ ,” he thought, “ _ here, in Bleak Wind? _ ” His visitor, still standing in the doorway of his humble shop, was the target of his sidelong gaze rather than his answers.

The bronze dragonborn noticed his stare and cocked her head slightly. “Is there a problem?” She asked. “I do not come with any ill will or intentions. If you would like me to leave for now, that would not be too much to ask.”

“No!” He exclaimed, finding his tongue, “Oh, no… please do come in.” Markus lowered his tone back to its daily, professional level. “ _And a kobold too!_ ” He tried to stifle the now steady stream of smoke coming from his snout as he made his way behind the Yew Wand’s front counter, “How may I help you this evening?”

The dragonborn stepped inside and held the door open for her companion. She then began looking around on the shelves and perusing his stocks. “Um, potions,” She said, looking around the shelves, “What sort do you have in stock?”

“ _ Potions, yes! She already said that! Find the potions, down the aisle and to the left: always. _ ” Markus mentally scolded himself and made his way out from behind the counter, “Yes, potions! I have many… many with various alchemical purposes and applications…” He tried to keep his shop owner facade as he passed the armor clad visitor and her companion: “Uhh… my apologies, one moment and I will try to find one of each kind I have in stock.”

She smiled and nodded. “Of course.” She said patiently. She was definitely willing to wait, seeing as she came to him at a probably extremely inconvenient time. “Take your time.” She continued looking around before looking down at her companion and smiling at him. The kobold gave a huge smile back.

Markus slid useless baubles and obscured heirlooms aside in search of his prospective customer’s desired goods, “ _ By Bahamut, when was the last time I dusted? _ ” Tome moved over tome by Markus’ claw. He tilted his head back towards his visitors as he searched, “If you do not mind me asking, from where do you happen to be traveling from?”

She tilted their head up as he caught her attention. “Hm?” She looked over at him. “Oh, I am from Ridgecrest. I have come to aid those in need and hopefully find a few relics to bring back to my home temple.”

Markus shifts another pile of junk aside and scratches his claw across a leather pendant while muttering, “Ridgecrest… it has been some time…” He works his claw out of the new groove he has made, his shifting and sorting has fallen into an absent minded motion at this point. 

The visitor gave a sort of hum in semi-agreeance before squatting down to her companion. She said something in a low voice and her companion seemed to chirp in agreeance before pulling something out of his pack and handing it to her. There was a soft “Thank you,” and she stood up, a small bag in her hands.

The search was abandoned, Markus only stood still while watching the exchange. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, surely his visitor’s patience would wear thin with him lounging like some voyeur. Wordlessly, he stepped past the two and back behind his counter to engage in another search. Being more focused on this objective, he brought up his candy dish containing small pieces of black licorice.

“Excuse me,” he said while making his way back over to the dragonborn and kobold, “but does he have a bit of a sweet tooth? I usually have this out for my customers during the day.” He holds it up to the taller of the two for inspection.

She gave a slight smile. “How generous!” She cooed as she took two pieces of the licorice. She leaned down and handed one to the kobold who chirped and began gnawing on the rope like a dog with a chew toy.

“It is quite nothing,” Markus replied while lowering himself to a squat before the kobold companion, “they serve their purpose in keeping the shop scented and are also quite delicious.” He locks eyes with the small kobold before him and asks in draconic, “Is it not?”

The kobold looks up from his licorice and gives a smile, the rope still in his mouth before nodding gratefully. The dragonborn visitor gave a chuckle at the sight and took a small bite out of hers.

“I personally have more of a savory leaning, but NikNak is a huge fan of sweets.” She said.

“NikNak…” Markus trailed off thoughtfully before turning to his customer and assuming his full height, “friendly sort they are, kobolds, that is. Fairly misunderstood from where I am from, but I know them to be extremely clever. You must be very fortunate to have such traveling with you.”

“Of course!” She said, looking down at him fondly. NikNak, though too preoccupied by the licorice to show it, was aware of the conversation and gave a quick glance upward. “He has saved my hide more than a few times, and he is extremely pleasant company.”

Nodding in approval, Markus could not help but feel that there was something nagging in the back of his head. “ _ Potions! The potions, you sack of saltpetre! _ ” Embarrassed heat rose from his chest and all the way to the very tip of his horns. 

“I am convinced,” he stuttered, trying to save face, “but I am sure he will not be in need of saving your life as often if I were to get you those potions you wished for!” He began making his way back to the shelf he pillaged moments ago, wisps of smoke dissipating behind him as he walked. 

“Of course.” She chuckled. She looked around a bit more. Maybe she was just tired, but it appeared to be a bit fuzzier in the room. That’s when she realized she was tired. The day’s journey had worn on her greatly and she let out a large yawn, electricity crackling between her teeth.

Markus turned around upon hearing the beginning of the yawn, in his grasp was an old piece of parchment paper imbued with magical algorithms capable of firing ballistic darts at a target. Its existence was ended with the melon sized ball of flame that jetted from Markus’ face upon seeing the sight of his customer.

“ _Goodness, this is not very professional…_ ” He blinked a few times, unsure how to react further; if he did not know his own anatomy better, he could have sworn his very scales were turning red. “My day, it sure is dusty upon these shelves! I could have started some fire here. Yes… dust…” he trailed off. Markus squinted through the plume of vapor and reached into the shelf, pulling out a lattice container of six glass bottles: “Potions… yes.”

“Oh yes,” She said, carefully picking up the container with only as few fingers as possible. “Bless you.”

She set the container on the counter and began looking through them, seeing if they had any defining labels and swirling them in their bottles.

Markus, defeated by his own circumstance, resumes his sales-dragon demeanor and steps back behind his counter. “It is a variety: draft of health, oxidizing fluid, and instant vapors. It should be suitable for one who surely sees as much combat as yourself.”

She nodded a bit absentmindedly. “Actually, I try to stay out of combat as much as possible.” She pulled a few of the healing draughts out of the container and set them aside. “As a follower of Bahamut, I try my best to help those in need fend for themselves rather than fight for them. I’m a healer of sorts.” After pulling out about 5 of the healing draughts, she slid them across to him. “These will be fine for me today.”

“Oh,” Markus sheepishly replied, “I see. Very well, I believe that a sum of one hundred gold pieces will settle our accounts.” He let out a silent sigh before continuing, “I am sure that you will see that these find the right people.”

She made a slight face before reaching into the pouch produced by her companion earlier. She counted out the coins a bit before setting down forty pieces. 

“I do not believe it wise to carry too much on oneself at a time. Two of these will have to do me for now.” She carefully picked up three of the vials and set them gently back into the case where they were originally located.

“ _ How odd, _ ” Markus pondered, “ _ how can one deny the feeling of being apart from their whole wealth? _ ” He thought back to the stash of coins underneath his bedding, the thought of one coin out of place had led to many sleepless nights; but, his mind was in other places at the moment. 

He pressed his claws against the stacks of coins atop his counter and slid them back across. “Madam, I have a business to run…” he muttered while running his tongue across an incisor, “but I will not let you rob me of a blessing this evening. Please do some good with these.”

She held a confused look on her face. “I do not believe I can do that. I am here seeking your services, and I could not dream of leaving without providing you compensation.” She put her clawed hand over his and pushed it back towards him with a small smile. “Please. Do not be foolish.”

Reflexively, Markus placed his hand over hers to halt her transaction. “ _ Oh no.” _ He stammered, “I- I believe that the foolish act out of ignorance. I v-very well know what I am doing here.” He cast a quick glance at the pile of hands atop his counter; he could feel her scales under his: sleek and smooth. Markus locked eyes with his customer once more and steeled himself, “Please madam, the work you can do with these far outweighs what I normally charge for them. It has been a while since I have given alms, too.”

The visitor looked over his face for a second before speaking again. She began slowly and calculative. “How about a compromise…” She glanced over to the three she put back before looking back. Her free hand moved to support the side of the coins currently under the weight of three hands. “I purchase these two, and you can chose to donate some of those to my work. These two would be a transaction for your business and the others would be charity.” 

“ _ Why can she not look a gift chest in the mouth? _ ” Markus’ salesman composure was quickly losing hold; she was humble to a fault. “Very well.” he said while taking his hand off of hers, “Thank you. But, I shall make sure that this gold you are paying me goes to good use: to help others.” 

She gave a slight smile as she lifted her hands off the coins. “I am glad; however, it is yours to do with as you wish. It is payment for a good provided, as that is how a free market works.” She slipped the two vials of healing draught into her bag and pointed to the vials. “How many of this are you choosing to part with?”

“As many as your honor allows.” He said through a smile.

She gingerly picked up the three she put back before and handed them down to NikNak. 

“Be careful with these!” She said quietly before looking back to Markus. “I thank you for your generosity and I ensure that these will go to those who need it most. I believe I will be staying in town for a while longer, for I hear there is quite many who would need assistance. Perhaps I will see you around.”

“I would hope, it would be shame if I were not to hear of the great things you are here to do.” He replied with a refreshed interest. “ _ Staying in town? She looks like she can take care of herself, but the others… _ ” Markus slid the coins into a small, leather pouch on his belt and gave a small nod and another smile to his visitor, “Please stay safe, and thank you for coming by my humble shop.”

She gave a small grateful nod before walking over to the door. She rested her hand on the handle before pausing and turning around. 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She said. “Do you know of any good inns in the area that might still have rooms open at this time?”

“Yes, the Dilly Dally almost always has vacancy. It should be located by the East Auxiliary Gate. Do you think you will have trouble finding such a place this time of night?”

She gave a small smile. “No, I think I will be fine. NikNak has a wonderful sense of direction. Thank you for all of your help.” She said. “Have a good evening!” She gave a wave as she opened the door for her companion and they both exited the building.

While the door swings closed, Markus could not help but to try and shout just a few more words: “Please, come again!”

The door closed shut, leaving the dragonborn shopkeeper once again in the silence of his home and shop.

“ _...Please… _ ”


	5. Amphibious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter written with my DM

The atmosphere of a bar is friendly to the social sort: drink, strangers, music, and food. However, to those who find their time well spent in other places, establishments such as the Dilly Dally appear more as flophouses and dens of drunkards. Markus, down on his luck and needing a place to stay, decided to rent a room on the evening of 967 High Year 40 at one such place.

Upon entering the bar, he discovered the same dragonborn female and companion as the one he had seen in his shop. They were sitting a bit to themselves, away from the loud alcoholics taking up the majority of the bar, and seemed to be eating a dinner of sorts. Possibly a steak? It was hard to tell from the distance. The shorter of the two seemed to have to stand on his chair to be at a reasonable height.

“ _Them again?_ ” Markus thought. Considering recent events, he had almost completely forgotten that the dragonborn warrior and her squire were bunking at the bar. He froze where he stood: “ _Should I go over and say hello?_ ”

They seemed to be conversing quietly to themselves, not seeming to be ones for the bustling of the bar. Well, at least the cleric didn’t. The kobold looked like he could hold his own for at least a few minutes before he was overwhelmed. Either way, they didn’t seem to pay attention to who was coming in and out of the bar.

With a hesitant breath, Markus sighed a small jet of flame in resignation. Things have been horrible the past two days: first, with the attempt on his life and then him having to leave his home. What harm could there be in the momentary enjoyment of conversation with a cute dragonborn? Markus shifted on his feet, steeling himself one final time, and then made his way over to her table.

As he approached their table, the kobold saw him first. He gave some excited chirps and the like to get the dragonborn’s attention before pointing to him. She turned to look at him and cocked her head a bit with a smile. As he got closer, she initiated the conversation.

“Well, I assumed you knew of this place, having recommended it, but I honestly did not expect to see you here.” She said before looking around at everyone else in the bar. “It definitely has an… interesting atmosphere.”

“It is nice to see you here too…” Markus trailed off with a nervous smile; too late did he realize that his response was non-sequitur. He gave a quick cough before continuing, “Yes, I do not normally spend evenings here. I find other ways to entertain myself.”

She nodded a bit. “I usually do not find myself in quite this company either. It’s a bit loud for my tastes.” She motioned down to the food she was eating. “They do serve rather fine food here, however. It is very much like comfort food. I assume you’ve eaten here before?”

“Yes, I have,” he replied, grateful she did not notice his verbal misstep, “I am quite fond of the pastries they have.”

“ _Come on, ask to sit down, Markus!_ ” he beseeched himself.

“May I sit with you and order a drink?”

“Oh, of course.” She said, scooting her chair over a bit, allowing him room to pull up a chair. She pointed to an empty chair nearby. “I do not think anyone is using that one. Go ahead and pull it up here.”

“ _By Bahamut, it worked: and next to her nonetheless!_ ” He was taken aback by his success to such a degree that a slow trickle of smoke began seeping from his snout. Markus tried to stifle the flow before some brute asked for a light or his neighbors noticed.

The other dragonborn continued to eat her food, now fully identifiable as steak, while the kobold seemed to have already finished whatever he had picked out. Markus grabbed and chair and pulled it over before she spoke again.

“Oh, how rude of me, I just realized we have not been properly introduced.” She set down her knife and fork and held out a hand. “I am Delmirev Tailas and this is NikNak.” The small kobold waved enthusiastically. “And you are?”

Markus took her hand and replied, “I am Markus Ro-Kin, sorry for not asking your name back at my shop.”

He sat down beside Tailas and awkwardly clasped his hands in front of him on the table. The hard part of getting at the same table as her was over, now he actually had to speak to her.

“So… what business have you gotten into since we last met?” Markus slowly began.

She tilted her head a bit thoughtfully before speaking up. “I have gotten a fair look throughout the city and found the areas of interest my comrades have told me about. I will soon look into them. And you, Ro-Kin? Have you met any interesting characters?”

“I have indeed…” Markus rumbled while suppressing the urge to once again run a claw over the nonexistent wound on his face, “I met with a friend the other day. We are going to collaborate on a big project. Also, please call me Markus.”

“Oh? You prefer being called by your clan name?” She asked, but respected the decision. “Regardless, what kind of project is it? I would assume it would have something to do with magic, seeing your business is in that field. What field do they work in?”

“ _Oh no_ ," Markus thought, “ _I can not just go out and say I am helping an escaped slave start a revolution!_ ”

He smiled and replied, “We are studying the destruction of bound magic. It is regarding a company’s… employee retention.”

She nodded carefully. “I am to assume that your friend works for said company? What does the company produce? And what does it have to do with binding magic? Do they specialize in…” She thought for a second. “Soulbinding weapons? This must be some intense study. Not many people have the ability to bind things in quite a way.”

“Uhhhh…” Markus stalled, looking for a way to recover, “Yes, my friend does work for the company. Say… did you mention soulbinding weapons? I work at a magic shop, and even I am unfamiliar with them!”

“Oh, yes. I did. I’m assuming that this company does not soulbind objects.” She gave a small smile. “But, either way, I am also not quite familiar with how it works. I only knew one warrior who had his weapon bound to him.” She seemed to go into a reverie. “He was the grandest warrior of our clan and never lost a battle. He ran bravely into the front lines without hesitation and would fight until one of them fell. He was so attached to his weapon, I believe it might have been natural for it to happen.” She broke from her reverie and gave a slight shrug to him. “I never asked him how it happened, I just know he could summon his weapon from anywhere.”

Markus was lost in her words, picturing himself as this icon slaying innumerable foes before him. He was not partial to the sword, for he found it rather brutish in utility, but would make an exception if he were to be revered by someone such as Tailas.

“Such feats sound like legend! Tell me, what is this great warrior's name?”

“He was Delmirev Kyron.” She said proudly. “The greatest warrior of my clan. He fought to protect us, and I believe he still does.” She looks off in thought. “I am uncertain how he fares lately. I should visit home soon.”

“I assume he is where your tribe gets their namesake?” Markus inquired, slightly jealous of Tailas’ adoration.

She cocked her head, seeming a bit confused. “No, my _clan_ was always named Delmirev. He just happens to be a member of it. I am certain you know how this works, no?”

Concerned he had miffed his tablemate, Markus stuttered, “N-no, actually. I was raised in a Human hamlet. Do all of you have the same last names?”

She nodded slowly. “I see. Humans do things quite different, I have noticed. If you wish to know how names work, I suppose I could tell you. The clan name is first, in this case Delmirev, and the personal name is second. I suppose if I were to format my name how a human would phrase it, I would be called Tailas Delmirev.” She gave a slight cringe. “No, I do not think I like that. However, am I to believe that is how you delivered your name to me, rather than Ro-Kin Markus?”

“Yes, I am referred to as Markus first. Ro-Kin is not a clan name, as far as I believe.” Markus noted nervously, “It is funny, I must appear to you more as a Human or Elf rather than one of our kind. I am very uneducated in most of our ways.”

She gave a slight chuckle. “Well, is it the form you carry that make the person, or is it perhaps the spirit you carry?” She said. “Perhaps you are a human at heart. It is interesting that someone would have made such a decision to raise a dragonborn as a human. Would you like to tell me what that is like? You are definitely more versed in human culture.”

“I would not certainly say I was raised as a human, they definitely made sure the distinction was clear,” Markus muttered, lowering his snout. “Though they made me work like any other human, maybe more; more than likely they thought me to be as strong as a dragon, just smaller.”

She cocked her head to the side in confusion. “What do you mean? How was your raising different from that of a human? I don’t believe I understand.”

He sighs, not quite sure how to word his answer to Tailas’ question. “The Humans who raised me were not the most polite group. I was sometimes treated badly for being different. Surely you have met such treatment even in Ridgecrest, no?”

She looked off in thought. “I suppose I might know of what you’re talking about. I never really paid much attention to those around me past the information I asked of them. I suppose I have been met occasionally by rudeness, but I figured that some people are just sour. Is that not the case?”

He shook his head. “No, I admit, I have been dancing around the issue. The Humans in Ridgecrest, they are not rude, but downright evil towards dragonborn in my experience. I am quite surprised you are not familiar with this, your tribe must not be around many human settlements.”

“No, we are not.” She said. “My clan usually does not meet humans. I actually only recently learned common when I decided to explore. Some people I do admit are rude, but evil seems a bit like an overstatement. Perhaps it is a connotation I do not understand?”

“No, you are understanding correctly; the people of Bleak Wind and the Golden Glades are quite benevolent by comparison,” Markus paused, hoping to shift the conversation to something happier, “such as this woman! Moira, over here, please!”

A Half-Elf barmaid strode over to meet his summons. She eyed Markus, for he does not often come around, but maintains a professional air while taking his drink order.

Markus turned back to Tailas, “Would you like something to drink also?”

She looked at him and back down to her plate, her meal all but forgotten. “I suppose.” She turned to NikNak. “Would you like something as well?” She was greeted with a couple happy chirps and looked back to the half-elf. “Two ales, please, miss.”

“Fig wine, please,” he stated, “on the same ticket, too.” Markus turned back to his acquaintance and asked, “Do you normally drink?”

Tailas seemed concerned and went to speak before he had changed the subject and the bartender left. She looked at him for a second, a bit visually confused, before answering.

“I… do not usually. Niknak likes an ale now and again, but we usually just stick to non-alcoholic drinks.”

“Ah…” he trailed off, looking down at his claws on the table. “I do not drink much either…”

She nodded carefully, seeming a bit more confused. “I see. But then, why order one now? What is the occasion?”

“I am a… social drinker…” Markus muttered between fake coughs.

“A… social drinker?” She said with a head tilt. “I am afraid I do not know what that means. Is that a human coined term?”

He slumped back in his chair, trying to relax before replying, “Yes, it is where one drinks only when in the company of others. It is just something to do, overindulgence is not the goal.”

She nodded slowly. “I see. I suppose that would make me a… social drinker as well?”

Markus stifled another fake cough, “Yes.” He glanced over to Niknak, hoping the little assistant would do something to save him from his own bumbling. “Uhh…”

As if on cue, the waitress returned, the three drinks in hand. They received their drinks with quiet, polite “thank you”s before Tailas noticed her companion had already begun chugging his drink.

“Niknak!” She quietly chastised him with a small, non-forceful hit. The smaller reptilian gave an apologetic look, but had already drained about half his flagon. She gave him a look and he took a small sip before she turned her attention back to the other dragonborn and his actions. She reached into her bag and pulled out a couple copper and placed them purposefully on the table, making eye contact with Markus as she did so.

“Ah,” Markus began with a frown, “thanks…” The stack of coin on the table stung with Tailas’ stare.

“I guess he is not much a social drinker.” He stated, pointing clawed digit to Niknak.

She looked over at the kobold and gave a slight nod. “He can be a bit of a mess sometimes.” She was greeted with a chirp of disapproval from a snout in a mug. “But, he is nice to have around. It is nice to have a traveling companion.”

“I am convinced, companions of such caliber are hard to come by; or, so I am led to believe!” Markus said, seeing an out from his verbal floundering.

“It is better to spend time developing a connecting for such a strong connection rather than making a multitude of weaker ones.” She paused. “That reminds me. You have met my companion, but you have not even told me much about yours. You seem close to the partner you are working with. Tell me about them.”

“ _Oh no…_ ” Markus thought as he was put on the back foot again.

“Well, we are close because of our upbringings. It is nice to confide with those who face similar difficulties.”

“I see.” She said with a pleasantly neutral expression. “Are they also a dragonborn raised with humans? That is an interesting coincidence. It seems almost planned in a way.”

He sheepishly grinned at the misconception, “No, actually, they are an odd type. Have you ever heard of a Tiefling?”

She nods a bit knowingly. “Of course I have. They are descended from the demons that infested our world.” She gave a click of her tongue, and Niknak gave a little start. “I have been made aware that they are treated extremely poorly despite having no connection to them other than their physical traits.” She finished off her statement with a drink of her ale.

Markus perked up at this knowledge, “You know of their mistreatment?”

“Of course.” She said. “That is part of the reason I have come. I do believe there could be a way to convince your leader and the people of this region that they have done nothing wrong.”

“Oh? May I ask how? My friend would love to know.” He said, cocking his head at the assertion.

“Of course. I would most prominently bring up that it is an err in the parents that caused such a race, not the race itself. I would plan to bring attention to the fact that they most likely have not had contact with a demon in their lifetime, if the expected behavior of a demon is to be believed. I would ask if such a poor soul had ever harmed any of those in question for any reason not of their own doing. I could go on.”

He drew back from his cup of wine to ask, “What if they do not see it that way?”

She cocked her head. “What do you mean?” She asked. “I can scarcely believe they did not think about these things beforehand. If they do not change their minds when faced with facts, then they are not the brightest bunch in the basket.”

“I would say, “ Markus muttered bitterly between sips, “they are a bunch of something or another. I mean that their prejudice is rooted not in fact, rather their adherence to the deity Pelor.”

“That makes no sense.” She said matter-of-factly with a tilt of her head. “One’s faith in a deity should not influence the way you treat people for the worse. What sort of logic does this King run his city with?”

“That is what I said!” He drained the last few drops of wine from his wooden cup, “But, apparently _Pelor_ considers them a _treasonous_ people, so the mistreatment is by Divine appointment.”

“What sort of deity commands the mistreatment of an entire race?” She seemed very upset by this new knowledge of the situation. After a short pause, she spoke again. “What sort of people complies?”

“Not Bahamut, not me,” Markus stated plainly, “and certainly not the people working to help out.”

He looked down at the table, concerned that he had made things too melancholy to turn around. Markus never considered himself the best orator, but he couldn't help but feel that he turned each thread in the conversation down the wrong path.

“But do not despair,” he smiled, “my friend and I know things will get better.”

His companion seemed grim and looked over his face before taking a small sip of her drink. “Of course.” She said pessimistically. “Because things definitely get better when left alone to stew.”

“ _Here goes nothing, rock brains…_ ”

“Tailas, I never said anything about leaving things alone.” Markus collapsed into a nervous grin, “But, I believe I must be getting along tonight.” He fished a few copper pieces from his purse and placed them on the table, standing up, “I and my companion have that work to get back to.”

The bar had wound down from the riff-raff and ambient quibble to a quiet murmur. Markus’ scales feet audibly scraped across the flagstones for a few paces, then stopped.

“Oh, and thank you again for sharing a drink and sparing the time!”

_“...I hope to do so again…”_

The dragonborn and her companion were left alone in the nearly silent bar. They quietly finished up their business and went back to their share room. Markus exited into the lukewarm night, the room he set out to rent forgotten. He began the lonely stroll back to the Yew Wand; he would stay another night, but he will be ready for any intruder...


	6. Enslaved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Awakened

Carrion sat in the back of the cart and had managed to get all of the bolts out of their body with no help from their captors. Before they could fully get the manacles unlocked, the cart came to a stop and they looked up to see a rather lavish mansion. It was pretty obvious just looking at the building this man was powerful in this town. They quickly hid their lockpicking tools and looked to the man about to pull them out of the cart.

"It'd be a shame to get my blood all over the carpet." They spoke up. "I'm sure it's a nice carpet and blood doesn't come up easy. I’m sure your boss would be rather upset that you got blood all over his carpet.”

The man gave them an annoyed look as he pulled them out of the cart. “Shut up, sixer.”

They shrugged. “Hey, I’m just trying to be helpful. It would probably be cleaner and easier for us to wait here and for him to come out here. You don’t have to clean dirt.”

“I said shut up.” He said with more force, pushing them toward the door, obviously wanting them to walk.

“Alright, alright.” They said as they started walking. “You don’t have to be pushy. Like I said before, you probably have the wrong tiefling. I most likely have never met this man. Just by the outside of his house, he seems too uppity to even look at the likes of me for more than a second.” 

They received another shove, but there were no other responses from the men as they were escorted into the house. They made a mental map of their path as they were pushed through the house, just in case things didn’t go perfectly. They eventually stopped in a room with two lush couches.

“Sit down.” One of the men said. “You might be here a while.”

“You can’t expect me to sit on this, can you?” They flicked their tail to one of the couches. “I’m still bleeding! It’s not that I wouldn’t like to sit on such a well-crafted piece of furniture and have a chat with this Lord Erengal, but I’m sure he paid a fortune for these couches. I wouldn’t want to sully it! I would feel obligated to reimburse him, but a person like me in the current economy can’t do much in the way of a job, especially one good enough to pay for this couch.”

“Sit. Down.” He said before leaving. 

They sighed and rolled their eyes before sitting in the couch closest to the door. They pulled out their lockpicking tools once more and discreetly started working on the lock on their cuffs. They kept an eye on the guards by the door and on the door itself. It was incredibly hard to pick a lock with one hand, but they were somewhat succeeding. 

They were about halfway finished when the door opened again. They hid their tools and turned toward the door. A man a bit taller than them with dark hair and a well-groomed mustache walked in. They looked him over a bit, and they noticed he was doing the same. He seemed satisfied and waved the guards out and took a seat across from them. He opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted.

“I apologize greatly for any stains that may come from my blood on your carpets or on this couch. Your hitmen snuck up on me while I was sleeping and shot me several times, which might I add is quite painful. There may be bloodstains on your carpets somewhere in your home and there is definitely one here.” They lifted their right leg, showing a pool of blood soaked into the couch, and lowered it again. “However, it’s only a mild inconvenience for me; I’ve had worse. I’m sure it’s much worse for you and your upholstery. I know how hard it is to get blood out of cloth.” They paused for a second before going at it again. This man seemed a bit frustrated already. Good. “Now, I do wish that you had come to talk to me yourself, but I forgive you. What was it you’d like to talk about Mister…”

“Lord.” He said, annoyed. “Lord Erengal.”

“Oh yes, one of your guardsmen might have said something about that. I don’t believe we’ve met before. I can understand their mistake if you were looking for someone else. Many commoners do have trouble discerning between tieflings, claiming they all look the same. I ap-”

“ENOUGH.” The man boomed. They sat in a tense silence for a moment before he spoke again. “I know my men have picked the right tiefling,  _ Carrion _ . You and I are going to talk about the potion you sold me.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds as they more closely examined the Lord’s face. After a few moments of recollection, they realized that this man had shown up a few days before. He bought a love potion, poor soul. Oh, how unfortunate of him of buying a vial of pink water with a dash of rose dust for 50 gold pieces. Oh well. He looked like he could spare a few gold for the poor. A small smile formed on their face.

“My Lord, I sell many potions every day. It’s kind of my job. You’re going to have to remind me of what you bought.” Their smile looked sincere enough, but it was slightly… off.

He looked taken aback, probably amazed that the world doesn’t revolve around him. He paused before speaking again. “A… A love potion.”

They nodded, the smile growing a bit. “Ah, yes, I remember now. I’m surprised your crush wasn’t falling head over heels for you. Most people would love to have their hands on someone as…” They paused for a moment, looking for the correct verbiage before motioning to the room around them, “someone as well-endowed as you.” They shrugged. 

“However, sometimes love can’t be bought with gold,” They looked at him seriously. “So you tried to buy love with gold.” They gave a sigh. “I can’t say I blame you, though. I’d imagine someone with everything handed to you would make you a bit spoiled.” They gave a slight nod. “Let me see if I can try to troubleshoot your experience. Please tell me exactly how you administered the potion. That’s usually where it goes wrong.”

They looked at him expectantly and he seemed to be bothered, but he was trying to keep them from seeing. It wasn’t working, obviously, but it was the best he could do.

“I put it into her drink,” He said carefully. “I made her tea and poured it in before bringing it out.”

They clicked their tongue and shrugged. “That’s where it went wrong.” They said in a resigned tone. “Tiefling magic is a rather fickle thing. Did you not heed my warnings and listen to my instructions? I remember I specifically said that the imbiber needed to be fully aware of the administration and the effects of the potion for it to work. They need to be willing and drink the potion for themself. I can’t say that this is any fault of mine!”

“ _ What?! _ ” Erengal growled. “That doesn’t make sense! Why in the world would anyone willingly drink a love potion?”

They shrugged. “Broken marriages they both desperately want to fix. Someone wanting a happy life with someone in an arranged marriage. Perhaps marrying into a wealthy family. There are many reasons why someone would want one and it's not  _ my _ place to ask them. The fact you couldn’t even think of these simple reasons makes me concerned about the poor girl you were trying to victimize.”

“Who are you to tell me about my intentions?” He said angrily, standing up. His voice grew as he spoke, becoming angrier and crueler. “This was all a scam, wasn’t it? There’s no ‘tiefling magic’ in these potions. This was just to steal money from a Lord. I should’ve realized that from the start.”

Carrion stood up in response, backing up a bit, trying to maneuver around the bloodied couch. “Woah, woah, woah.” They said nervously. They had definitely got him riled up to the point that he couldn’t think straight, but not in the way they had intended. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Just because you mistook the uses of my potion doesn’t mean that I’m a scammer. Maybe we can sit back down and work out a better solution with a lot less aggression involved.”

“Why would you work in the Black Market if you  _ weren’t _ a scammer?” He yelled strongly. He was about to continue his rant, but Carrion spoke out first.

“Perhaps it’s because tieflings like me are commonly associated with scamming and stealing, leaving us unable to find a job amongst anyone but scammers and thieves. Why were  _ you _ at the Black Market if you were a completely honest and upstanding Lord?” They said strongly in return.

They ducked as a fist came barreling towards their face. They had a split second to react and spent that time quickly backing into the door and finding the handle with their manacled hands. They pushed backward through the door and turned quickly, breaking into a sprint almost instantly. They started down the path they had memorized. They had barely gotten to their first turn when they heard Erengal shout from behind them.

“Stop them!” He yelled at his guards. They then heard footfalls behind them. Two guards? No, three. The footsteps of three guardsmen rushed behind them as they sprinted through the halls. Why did rich people have to live in mazes?

They skidded around the last corner and found two guards waiting for them at the exit.  _ Shit. _ They couldn’t stop, but they had nowhere to go. They counted their odds and ran towards the door. They had been dealt the shit hand tonight, that’s for sure. They sent out a short prayer and hoped for the best. 

They charged headfirst towards the first guard, seeming to want to spear the man with their horns. Their position changed at the last second as they flipped around and grabbed the man’s metal chestpiece. They sent a shock of electricity through their hands into his suit and into his person. The guard was stunned long enough for them to kick him to the ground. This time of preoccupation gave the second guard the perfect opportunity to give them a mean right hook.

The punch sent them stumbling back a bit and they tripped backward on something. They looked and it was the first guard’s hand. He had been alert enough to grab their hoof as they were stumbling and by the time they realized they were on the ground, the second group of guards was already upon them, completely apprehending them and keeping them pinned.

They heard the click of knees as a more well dressed set of legs squatted down to view them. If they had to take a wild guess, it was definitely Lord Erengal.

“You’re going to make this up to me ten times over.” He said sadistically.


End file.
